


Thief

by SilverWing15



Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [16]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Don't worry fam Phil coming to save the day, Dream at it again, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Mind Manipulation, Ranboo is just too good for this world, Ranboo's memory book, YOOOOOO SUCK IT GREEN BOY, eventually, not even Dream is immune, too pure, with the gaslighting children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:40:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28715916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWing15/pseuds/SilverWing15
Summary: ...He..wakes up? Was he asleep? He must have been, otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up. “--anboo? Ranboo?” he groans softly.  “Oh thank gods you’re awake,” a voice says. It makes him think of a shoreline, a beach, a tent, blond hair. There’s a name that goes with it, but he doesn’t know it, he doesn’t know anything.“Ranboo?” The voice asks.Is that him?“Who’s Ranboo?” he asks.The voice laughs, “its you,” he looks to the owner of the voice. Blond hair, yes that’s right. “You’re Ranboo, and I’m Dream. I’m your friend. What do you remember?”“Nothing,” Ranboo says.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: I'm Writing Fanfiction About Block Men God Help Me [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057121
Comments: 60
Kudos: 776
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As promised fam, I have written stuff for The Boy. I've got all of this pre-written so updates will be regular, probably daily as long as I don't forget lmao. 
> 
> I'm bad at notes so that's all I'm writing, enjoy the fic!

_ Its for his own good. _ That’s what Technoblade tells himself,  _ its for his own good, and for the good of everyone else.  _

That doesn’t make this any easier. Hunting down a scared kid is something that Techno thought he would never do. Especially not a kid that he considered a friend, once. Dream has a way of ruining friendships though. A way of ruining everything one might hold dear, everything that one might have planned or hoped for. 

Phil is grim faced at his side. He’d probably never seen this coming either. 

Techno never thought he’d see the day that Ranboo stood at Dream’s side, looking to him for commands. Never thought he’d see the day that he ran the gangly little ender hybrid to the ends of his stamina, until he’s on his knees in the grass, staring at Techno with horror. Tears slipping out of his eyes as pleas slip from his lips. 

He was a good kid, once, and now Dream has ruined that as well. 

Its just what Dream does. 

Techno ignores Ranboo’s words, they will do him no good. There is only this inescapable conclusion. 

*** 

He doesn’t know how things got to this point. Well, no, he does. It was Dream’s fault, in the end, everything is Dream’s fault. 

That doesn’t make this any easier, to see the city that he called home turned to rubble, less than rubble. To hear the voice of a man he once called friend ringing out over the screams and the explosions,  _ laughing _ . 

He scrambles through the debris, coughing on the ash, trying to find his way out. Trying to find somewhere to hide. His panic room, where is it? Where is he? There is nothing recognizable left, has he been here before? Is he running circles? He has no idea. Gods he could be forgetting as he runs, doing endless circles in the middle of the destruction until someone, or something, finally ends him. 

Phil shouts something, his voice anguished and full of rage.  _ Phil! _ Phil who had been his friend even when Ranboo had been his enemy. Phil who is tearing apart his city, who is killing his friends. They are friends, right? 

Ranboo doesn’t know anymore, after everything. They might all hate him now. It might not matter, they might all be dead.  _ He _ might be dead, maybe this is all some terrible punishment for his misdeeds. 

A wither looms through the smoke, eyes alight. 

And then there is nothing. 

*** 

...He..wakes up? Was he asleep? He must have been, otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up. “--anboo? Ranboo?” he groans softly. “Oh thank gods you’re awake,” a voice says. It makes him think of a shoreline, a beach, a tent, blond hair. There’s a name that goes with it, but he doesn’t know it, he doesn’t know anything. 

“Ranboo?” The voice asks. 

Is that him? 

Is he Ranboo? Or is he the voice? He doesn’t know. He--

He opens his eyes, the sun is blinding, his body aches. 

“You’re alright,” the voice says, something is pressed to his lips. “Here, you’re probably thirsty.” Water. He is thirsty, he drinks. “Its alright, Ranboo,” the voice says, the voice belongs to someone, he knows them. He thinks. 

Does he? 

“Who’s Ranboo?” he asks. 

The voice laughs, “its you,” he looks to the owner of the voice. Blond hair, yes that’s right. “You’re Ranboo, and I’m Dream.” 

Right. That sounds right. 

He must be Ranboo, and this is Dream. 

“I’m your friend,” Dream says, and that must be right too. “What do you remember?” 

“Nothing,” Ranboo says. “I don’t remember anything.” He looks around, as if that will help him remember, he was lost...wasn’t he? He was trying to find something, or someone? There was...something was happening. But they are in a meadow, grass gently waving around them, wildflowers at their feet. Something bad was happening, but it couldn’t have been happening here. 

“That’s...That’s probably for the best.” 

He looks back to Dream, “what do you mean?” 

Dream’s face crumbles, “Oh Ranboo,” he says, soft, he sounds like he’s going to cry, “I’m so sorry. You were out of control, its not your fault. I don’t blame you,  _ nobody _ should blame you.” Quieter, softer, “they do though.” 

“Blame me for what?” Ranboo asks, he doesn’t understand. There was something bad happening. Smoke and laughter and glowing eyes. “ _ What did I do? _ ” 

“You destroyed L’manberg,” Dream says. “You wiped out a city.” 

“No,” he croaks, “no I didn’t, I couldn't have--” 

A city in ruins, ashes choke the air, choke him, smoke burning his eyes, a voice calling out, anguished and laughing. Was that his voice? Was that him? What did he do? Gods what did he  _ do _ ??

“What did I do? What did I do?  _ What did I do _ ??” The words pour from his lips, stumbling over themselves, he sits up but Dream grabs him by the shoulders, grabs him around the shoulders. Pulls him, trembling, into his chest. 

“It wasn’t you,” he says, “It wasn’t you. They made you do it, but its alright. It’s alright, Ranboo. You’re not with them anymore. You’re with me. I’m not going to hurt you, and you won’t hurt me. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.” He strokes a hand through Ranboo’s hair, down his back. “Its okay,” Dream says, but it isn’t. It  _ isn’t _ . It never will be again. 

Dream holds him close and shelters him from the storm in his mind. Ranboo doesn’t know how long he spends with his face pressed into Dream’s neck, fingers tangled in Dream’s jacket. “Ranboo,” Dream says eventually, “we’ve got to go, we can’t stay here. They’re going to be looking for you.” 

“You should let them find me,” Ranboo says, his voice hollow even to his own ears. “I deserve whatever they want to do to me.” 

Dream tenses around him, “no,” he says furiously, “don’t say that, don’t  _ ever _ say that. They’re the ones who did this to you. They wound you up like a toy and set you loose on that city because it wouldn’t listen to them, because L’manberg wouldn’t obey. They used you like a weapon.” 

Ranboo squints, confused, he thought that they were running from the people who blamed him for destroying L’manberg, but he must have misunderstood. Or there are two groups of people after him. Gods, how many people are they running from? How much risk is Dream putting himself in to keep Ranboo safe?

“You should go, you shouldn’t be with me. They’ll...they’ll come for you too.” Won’t they? That makes sense right? 

Right?

Dream cups his cheeks in his hands, “I’m not leaving you Ranboo,” he says firm and commanding, “I won’t let them have you. Ever again, alright? I’ll keep you safe, to the very end.” 

Ranboo nods, eyes burning but he’s out of tears. “Okay,” he says, voice choked, “I--thank you Dream. Thank you.” 

Dream pulls him close again, hand in Ranboo’s hair, “of course,” he murmurs, “that’s what friends do.” 

Ranboo relaxes into Dream’s arms and thinks, selfishly, that he is grateful to have such a good friend. 


	2. Chapter 2

They travel. Dream tries to distract him, he doesn’t talk much but he has Ranboo do all the little tasks of setting up and taking down their camps. It is nice to have something to do with his hands, but his mind still refuses to let go of all the thoughts that assault him. 

He destroyed a city, he looks at the hands that struggle to start a fire and tries to imagine lighting explosives with them. It doesn’t make sense, he wouldn’t do that, he  _ couldn’t  _ have done that. But he did, Dream said so and Dream isn’t a liar. 

Ranboo lingers at the outskirts of a village as Dream goes in to trade. Dream said it would be fine if he went in, but Ranboo can’t bring himself to. What if he’s recognized? What if something sets him off and he destroys this place too? 

He sits at the edge of the forest with his head in his hands and waits for Dream to come back. Prays that Dream won’t realize what a mistake he’s making and slip away. Even though Dream should, he should run all the way back to whatever is left of L’manberg and tell them where to find Ranboo. So he can be brought to justice. If one man could ever atone for the death of a city. 

But Dream comes back, he rests a hand on Ranboo’s shoulder and smiles that gentle smile and helps Ranboo to his feet. They keep traveling. 

“I got you this at the village,” Dream says, holding something out, “to help you with your memory. I know it still bothers you.” 

Ranboo takes the package and opens it. A journal, bound in plain leather. 

_ His journal, where is his journal? Where did it go? He didn’t put it there. Someone found it. Someone found it. Someone found it! _

Ranboo blinks. “Thank you,” he says, his voice sounds shaky. 

Dream smiles, “now even if you do forget things, you’ll be able to read this and remember.” 

Ranboo flips through the pages and for some reason his gut swoops to find them empty. Dream only just got him this journal, there is no way anything could be written in it. He’s never had one of these before. 

He thinks. 

“Come on,” Dream says, “we’re going hunting tonight, I need your help.” 

“Oh, okay,” Ranboo says, and he gathers the supplies Dream tells him to. They wander into the desert they’ve been hugging the edge of, swords unsheathed. “What are we hunting?” Ranboo asks hesitantly. They have enough food to last them for awhile, Dream had traded for it just today. 

A lanky silhouette rises on the horizon, purple eyes glowing in the night. 

“That,” Dream says, “we’re hunting that.” 

Ranboo doesn’t want to go hunting anymore. 

“Wait,” he says. 

“Hush,” Dream snaps back, “you’ll scare it off.” 

The enderman turns, and for a split second their eyes lock, even across the distance. 

_ Back off, _ it hisses into his mind,  _ no one wants to speak with you little cousin. _

“What?” 

_ Leave! _ The enderman barks, and it turns away. 

Dream charges, feet sure and silent on the sand, sword gleaming in the dim moonlight. Ranboo stares. He just stares. He doesn’t--he can’t stop him. 

Dream’s sword makes contact and the enderman is wreathed in flames. It screams, teleporting frantically, but there is nowhere to go. Dream is right on its tail, and with a second swipe of his sword, the enderman falls. 

Ranboo sits on the sand and listens as Dream pries the pearl out of the enderman’s chest. He comes back and Ranboo keep staring. “I don’t--” he says, “Dream I don’t want to do this.” 

“Come on,” Dream says, “its just endermen. I need your help if we’re gonna keep you safe.” 

“Dream,” Ranboo says, and Dream sighs. 

His hand reaches out and brushes through Ranboo’s hair. 

He-- 

He wakes up and wipes sand out of his face. What are they doing in the desert? 

“Come on,” Dream says, nudging his shoulder. “I know its late, but we’re gonna need more than that.” 

“More of what?” Ranboo asks. They’re in the desert, his sword is in his hand, what are they doing? What happened? 

“Just come on,” Dream says. 

Ranboo follows him, he doesn’t know where else he would go. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whooops this is late today, sorry guys. I got caught up in watching The Boy stream with Techno and it entirely slipped my mind until I sat down to write tonight (yeah lmao I've already got another AU going. Its pirates, stay tuned)  
> We're coming up on the end of this, technically I have some vague ideas for a sequel but its probably gonna be awhile before I get to it, if I ever do. I now have Pirate AU brainrot.   
> But anyway, here is your daily dose of Boy Angst, with guest stars! Enjoy that :)

Dream isn’t an impulsive man. He plans and he waits--sometimes years--for those plans to come to fruition. That doesn’t mean he lets opportunities pass him by though, some things can’t be planned, they simply happen and you have to jump on them before they pass you by. 

So, when he’d seen the little half-enderman kid lying there at the edge of L’manberg--or what used to be L’manberg at least--he’d scooped him up. He’s not really sure what he’ll do with the kid yet, but he’s easy enough to get on the right track. Better than Tommy. 

Ranboo listens, he trusts, in a way that Tommy never did. In a way that even George and Sapnap never did. He looks to  _ Dream _ to tell him what’s right, and he  _ does that _ . Dream runs a hand through Ranboo’s hair--the textures change with the colors, its interesting--and the kid mumbles in his sleep but doesn’t wake. In the light of the fire, Dream flips idly through his journal, he’s been writing in it pretty faithfully for the past few days. Mostly its boring stuff, what they did, what Dream said, his thoughts. He’s confused, he’s scared, but he still trusts, he still listens. 

Dream sets the book aside and leans back with a sigh, tipping his face up to the stars. This is all necessary, he reminds himself. To get them to listen, to get them to cooperate. He knew when he laid his plans that it would be difficult, but it is all necessary. 

What kind of person would he be if he left his family to squabble in the dirt over meaningless things when there is so much more out there for them? So much more waiting for them? 

Dream could show it to them, give it to them, if they would just  _ listen _ . 

But they don’t, so he has to teach them a lesson. 

*** 

Its raining today, the droplets patter down onto his helmet, slip through the gap between his gloves and his bracer and burn against his skin. Not enough to hurt, not enough to be worth telling Dream about, but it is a small, constant ache wherever the water touches. 

They can’t afford to stop though, so they keep going. 

Ranboo hunches in on himself, trailing in Dream’s wake. They are near another village, but they’re good on supplies so they’re going around this one. They can’t afford to be spotted by too many people. 

He watches the houses steadily come closer, and then fall away one by one. As they trudge one step at a time through the tall grass of the plains. The straps of the bags dig into his shoulders, but Dream needs his hands free in case they come across trouble, he’s better with a sword than Ranboo is. 

But they don’t come across trouble, rather, trouble comes across them. From the edge of the village, just as they’re about to pass it, come two boys. 

_ Laughter and grief and loyalty and guilt, he is loyal, he is a traitor. He is nothing, the city is nothing, it all crumbles to ash.  _

“Ranboo?” The boy with brown hair asks, his voice is little more that a whisper, carried on the wind. Dream stops in his tracks, and so does Ranboo. 

He looks over his shoulder, and both of the boys are standing there, staring like they’ve seen a ghost. 

Or a monster. 

“Dream.” the blond one says, voice grim. “What the  _ fuck _ are you doing with him?” 

Ranboo flinches and opens his mouth, but words won’t come out. He has to explain, but he  _ can’t _ how could he explain this? Explain what he’s done? 

Dream looms at his side and Ranboo turns to him. He has his sword out, is he going to fight these kids? Over Ranboo? No, no he can’t-- 

He-- 

He puts the blade at Ranboo’s throat. 

“Tommy, Tubbo,” he says, his voice is friendly, even pleasant, but the arm wrapped around Ranboo’s shoulders is tense and unyielding. “So nice to see you two, out sight-seeing are we?” 

“Let. Him.  _ Go _ .” The blond haired one demands, taking a threatening step forward, he is held back by an outflung arm. 

“Ranboo,” the other boy says, “gods Ranboo we thought you were dead! Are you okay? I mean--well. I mean,” he flicks a glance to Dream, “but you’re not hurt, right?” 

Ranboo opens his mouth, what are they  _ talking _ about? Why would  _ he _ be hurt because Dream is here, why would they  _ ask _ ? He doesn’t remember them, but he knows them. They’re from L’manberg. He destroyed their city. Don’t they hate him? 

Dream’s blade bites into his skin, a sharp, vibrant pain against the monochrome background of rain-soreness. “You’re not talking to him,” Dream says in that teasing, taunting, unfamiliar tone, “you’re talking to me. Aren’t you worried about me, Tubbo? Tommy? We were friends, remember?  _ Best friends. _ ”

“I don’t care about you, you bitch,” The blond one...Tommy? That’s Tommy, isn’t it. He’s Ranboo’s friend. 

He’s Ranboo’s friend, and Dream. 

Dream is his enemy. 

Isn’t he? 

_ Isn’t he? _

“Well,” Dream says, “I’m pretty sure you care about Ranboo, so here’s what’s going to happen.” The blade bites deeper, he gasps. Dream isn’t his friend, Dream has never been his friend. What was he  _ thinking _ ? “Me and Ranboo are gonna go, and you’re going to turn around and leave this village. Go back to that crater you call a city. If you don’t, or if I see either of your faces, if I  _ think _ I see your faces, I’ll take Ranboo’s head off and use his enderpearl to get away.” 

The blade angles down, brushing his chest, where his pearl lies locked behind a cage of muscle and bone that suddenly seems far, far too fragile. “I’m okay,” he tells Tommy. “I’m fine, just go. Please. Just go.” 

“Tommy we can’t,” Tubbo says, taking a half a step forward, Dream holds Ranboo tighter. Tommy grabs Tubbo by the shirt and yanks him back. 

“We  _ can’t _ ,” Tubbo says, looking between all of them. “Tommy--” 

“We don’t have a  _ choice _ , Tubbo.” Tommy snaps. 

“No,” Dream agrees, “you don’t. Now for once in your lives, why don’t you just  _ behave _ .” 

Tubbo is staring at him with wide, pleading eyes, begging him to somehow escape. Ranboo summons up a smile, he can feel how shaky it is. Its not convincing Tubbo in the least. “Its fine.” he promises. “Its just fine, Tubbo. Go.” 

“Yeah, Tubbo, we’ll be just fine,” Dream says. “As long as you go, right now.” 

Tommy nudges Tubbo’s shoulder, and they turn. And they go. 

And they leave him with Dream. 

The blade falls away from his neck, but Dream’s arm is still around him, like some terrible parody of a hug. There is the rasp of a sword being sheathed and then Dream’s hand touches his hair. He flinches, “shh,” Dream says, his voice soft and gentle, like he hadn’t been threatening Ranboo’s life just a moment ago. “Its alright now Ranboo.” 

But it isn’t. 

It really, really isn’t. 

Dream’s hand ruffles his hair and he--

*** 

...He...wakes up? Was he asleep? He must have been, otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up. 

“Ranboo?” Dream says, “Ranboo can you hear me?” 

“I..” his throat hurts, why does his throat hurt? “Yeah, I can hear you. What happened?” 

“They found us,” Dream says, “I fought them off but they nearly got you. We have to keep moving. Come on.” 

They barely stop for days, they just run. 

After about a week, they see the fire on the horizon as they crest a hill. Someone has found them, someone is chasing them. 

Someone has come for him. 

“You should go,” Ranboo says, “leave me, save yourself. I can’t drag you down with me.” 

“No!” Dream snaps, “would you stop saying that? I’m not leaving you. They’re not going to catch us, not if you just  _ listen _ to me. Do what I tell you and you’ll be fine, okay?” 

“I--” there is more rage in Dream’s voice than he’s ever heard before. He thinks. There is an echo, something. But its not important. “Okay. Okay.” 

Dream pulls him into a hug, “I’ve got you, Ranboo,” he says, “until the very end, remember?” 

But he doesn’t remember. 

“Just listen and you’ll be okay. We just have to make it to the forest and we can lose them in the trees. There’s a river there, we’ll get a boat and let it take us downstream, they won’t be able to track us.” 

Ranboo picks up the bags and they run. In the distance, the light of the torch chases them. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter fam! Thank you to everyone who's read and commented!

The thing about laying plans is that sometimes they fail, sometimes they backfire. That is simply a fact of life. Dream usually makes sure that his plans are well laid enough that backfiring is unlikely, and puts in redundancies and fail safes that ensure even if they do backfire, he will only feel the barest of consequence. 

But sometimes redundancies fail, and sometimes fail safes don’t engage. Sometimes things just fall apart too quickly for plans. Sometimes there is no choice but to run. 

So he runs. 

They run. 

Ranboo keeps up well for someone who’s never been hunted before, but Dream can tell that his energy is flagging. They won’t be able to run for much longer, they’ll have to stand and fight. 

He could give the kid his mask, his jacket, and send him running through the fields. Ranboo listens so well, it would be easy. Whoever is hunting them wouldn’t wait, they would just strike, and then Dream would be free to make his escape, free of his burden. 

Sometimes plans don’t pan out, sometimes losses have to be cut. 

It is the best choice, the only choice, really. 

But he doesn’t do it. 

He keeps Ranboo at his side, encourages him, keeps him going even though he’s slowing them both down. He’ll give the kid a chance, he tells himself, since he’s been such a good companion. 

Dream will...miss him, when he’s gone. He thinks. He doesn’t enjoy being in the company of many people, they are loud, and annoying. They don’t listen. Ranboo has, he’s been kind and he’s got a decent sense of humor when he’s given the chance. 

It will be quiet without him. 

But Dream likes the quiet, and his plans are for the good of all. They cannot be laid aside for the sake of one boy. 

He’ll wait until they get to the river and then send him off. 

Its not because he’s tired, and soft. He is too deep in this to be soft. He doesn’t care about the kid, he is just a loose end. 

He should have left him in the rubble of L’manberg. 

He should have left him with his friends. 

But he didn’t. 

He should have sent him off with the mask, a happy little decoy. 

But he doesn’t. 

He doesn’t really know why. 

*** 

They don’t make it to the river. They’re barely to the edge of the trees when a massive shape steps out of them. A monster, no, a man of monstrous size. A boar’s skull mask on his face, a naked sword gleaming in his hand. Beside him is another man, blond hair, like Dream, like...someone else. Wings over his shoulders. 

Who is that? 

Ranboo….knows them, doesn’t he? 

_ Smoke and laughter, flames rising around him, where is he? Where is he? Eyes, glowing in the darkness.  _

“Technoblade, Philza,” Dream says, almost courteous. “Did you need something?” 

“As a matter of fact,” the mountain of a man says, leaning casually against a tree, its a wonder the thing doesn’t creak under his weight. “You seem to have picked up a stray, that in matter of fact, belongs to us.” 

Oh. 

Oh gods. 

Its  _ them. _ The ones who loosed him on L’manberg, they’re the ones who made him a monster. Ranboo takes a step back, away from them, away from Dream. What if they make him turn on Dream? He can’t be anywhere near him. 

Dream glances over at him, “Ranboo,” he says, soft, like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. “Don’t worry, they’re not going to take you. I won’t let them.” 

The winged man shifts, his face confused, almost concerned. 

“I don’t really see how you get much say in it,” The massive man says. He nudges off the tree, smoothing entering a balanced swordsman’s stance. “Let him go, and I might let you live.” 

“Ranboo,” Dream says, steady and calm, “run.” 

Ranboo runs. 

“Wait!” The winged man shouts after him, but Ranboo isn’t listening to him. He can’t go back out to the plains, the winged man will fly and overtake him easily. He darts into the trees, weaving through trunks and branches, leaping over exposed roots. He can hear the river, Dream will find him there once he’s gotten rid of them. 

Dream will win. 

He has to win. 

Behind him, he hears a roar, and the clash of blades. 

Dream will win. 

He will be fine. 

He  _ has _ to be fine. 

Ranboo doesn’t know what he’ll do if he isn’t. 

*** 

By the time night falls, the sounds of battle have long faded behind him. Once, a few hours ago, the earth rumbled and lightning split the sky, since then there has only been silence. He doesn’t know what it means. He hopes that Dream won, that Dream is coming for him. 

He still hasn’t found the river. 

He hears it, but it is always distant, always just beyond this bend, this rock, this tree. He hears it but he can’t find it. His legs shake with exhaustion, his breath is coming in heavy gasps. Gods he’s tired, he’s so  _ tired _ . But he can’t stop, he has to keep going. He has to find the river. 

He can rest once he’s found the river. 

He stumbles and catches himself on a tree, the rough bark bites into his hands. He digs his claws into it and pulls himself to his feet. 

Just get to the river. 

Just get to the river. 

Its a mantra, a beat that keeps time to his feet pounding over the forest floor. 

Just get to the river. 

He trips on an exposed root, goes down. He lands on a rock and he swears he can hear his ribs creak. It’ll bruise, but that is a problem for the future. 

_ Just get to the river. _

He pushes himself up onto hands and knees, then freezes. Now that he’s still, he can hear distant crashing. Something  _ someone _ much bigger than Dream. 

“No.” he whispers, “no, no, no.” 

He gets to his feet, leaning heavily on a tree, but the moment he takes a step, his legs go out from underneath him. A sound burbles up from his throat, a strange, otherworldly chirp. He claps a hand over his mouth, trying to suppress another one. It slips out between his fingers. 

They're going to find him. They’re going to use him. They’re going to destroy another city and he will wake up in the aftermath with the taste of ash on his tongue. No. He’s not letting them, he can’t. 

He drags himself forward by his arms, he isn’t going to give up. He just needs to get to the river. He doesn’t think, doesn’t pay attention to anything but pulling himself onwards, to the sound of rushing water. 

“Seriously,” a deep voice suddenly drawls, “is  _ everyone _ around here just a massive drama queen?” 

Ranboo opens his eyes--when had he closed them? How long has he been laying here? 

“Techno,” the winged man scolds his companion. He comes around from behind the massive warrior, delivering a smack to the man’s arm that Ranboo doubts he feels. “Its alright, Ranboo,” the winged man says, “you’re a little confused right now, and more than a little scared, but we’re friends, see, we’ve got your memory book.” 

He pulls out a journal, thick, bound with leather, but not new like the one Dream gave him. Old, worn, scuffed and a little burnt. Familiar, in the distant way that these men are. 

“We found it in L’manberg,” the winged man says, “thought you’d be wanting it.” 

He takes a step closer. Ranboo tears his eyes from the journal and tries to get up. He can’t let them get close, can’t let them touch him. Can’t let them turn him back into the monster that destroyed L’manberg. 

“Don’t!” he says sharply, he can’t make it to his feet, his legs just won’t move. He’s so tired. Another one of the unworldly,  _ inhuman _ sounds rises up out of his throat, not a chirp, a rasping hiss, “don’t come any closer.” 

“Phil,” the giant warns--Techno--that was what the winged man--Phil? Called him. Technoblade. His name is Technoblade. 

By some miracle, Phil backs off, “alright,” he says, “we won’t. Here, why don’t I leave this right here and you can read it?” 

“No!” Ranboo snaps, “I don’t want anything from you. Get  _ away _ from me. Where’s Dream?  _ Dream! _ ” 

“He won’t hear you,” Techno says, grim and final. 

No.  _ no no no no. _ Dream can’t be dead. Not because of him. 

Ranboo’s hands creep up to tug at his hair. “No. You’re lying. You’re  _ lying _ !” he has to be lying, it can’t be true, can’t be real. 

“Ranboo!” Phil says sharply, Ranboo flinches and snaps his gaze around to him, “your claws, mate, you’re hurting yourself.” 

He is, he realizes. His claws have dug into his scalp and he is bleeding red and green through his hair. Another otherworldly sound pries itself out of his throat. “Please,” he says, “just leave me alone. Just leave. I don’t want this.” His legs won’t support him if he tries to stand but he curls them up to his chest as if they will shelter him from their wrath. “Please.” 

“We’re not gonna hurt you mate,” Phil says, Phil  _ lies _ , he’s lying, he has to be lying. They hunted him down, they killed Dream. Its a lie, he can’t fall for it. “You’re injured, and exhausted, and far from home. Let us help.” 

He wants to believe it,  _ gods _ he wants to believe it. He’s so tired, he wants to let go, let them do what they will with him if it just means he doesn’t have to run anymore. But he can’t, he has to keep running because if they catch him they will use him. 

“Please,” he whispers, “just stop.” 

“This isn’t working,” Techno says, he shifts his weight. From Ranboo’s position, curled up on the forest floor, he is somehow even bigger. He watches Ranboo out of the empty eye sockets of a long-dead boar, Ranboo can’t see his eyes, but his mouth is pulled down into a stern frown. 

“He’s scared, Techno,” Phil says. “Give him a minute.” 

“He’s  _ had _ a minute and he’s managed to tear out half his hair,” Techno argues, “let’s just get him back. Tommy and Tubbo can deal with him.” 

He knows those names, in the way he knows the book that Phil offered. An impression of sunlight, laughter, guilt, sorrow. He doesn’t want to find out who Tommy and Tuboo are. He just wants Dream to come back. 

But Dream is dead. 

Because of him. 

“C’mon, Ranboo,” Phil says, “just take a deep breath, you’re gonna pass out.” 

“Just let him,” Techno mutters, “that’ll make this easier.” 

This?

_ This? _

What are they doing? What are they going to do to him? “Please,” he says, one of the sounds half swallows the word, twisting it, distorting it into something unintelligible.

Technoblade takes a step forward. Its like watching a mountain move. 

Ranboo scoots back until he runs up against a tree. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

He looks desperately, foolishly to Phil, “just let me go,” he whispers one last desperate time. There is something frozen in his chest, as cold as ice, colder.

Phil's eyes widen, "he's gonna!--"

Technoblade lunges. He moves fast, too fast for a man of his size, in a blink his hand is around Ranboo’s wrist. 

Ranboo screams, it warps into a terrible rattling hiss that tears at his throat. His heart stutters in his chest, the frozen thing swells until it feels like its pressing against the inside of his ribs. 

His eyes fix on a point just behind Phil, and the tightness in his chest explodes. 

Void, then leaf litter underneath him. 

Phil shouts, surprised, but he’s  _ behind _ them. Technoblade’s hand is still wrapped around his wrist. He’s looming over Ranboo like a wave about to crash on the shore. “What the hell?” he mutters, shaking his head, the tusks of his boar mask flash in the light. “Did you just  _ teleport? _ ” 

Did he? 

He doesn’t care, it doesn’t matter, it didn’t get him away from Technoblade. He scrabbles at the fingers around his wrist, but Techno’s gloves are armored and he hardly seems to notice. Another sound wrestles out of him. 

“Just stop!” Techno snaps, “calm down!” 

“Let  _ go! _ ” The pressure swells up in his chest again, and this time he makes himself look somewhere further away. 

Void, a terrible squeezing sensation, light, ground, air in his lungs. 

Techno’s arm wraps around him, grabbing his free wrist. “You’re not going to get rid of me,” he says, his voice low. “Just stop. You’re going to fuck up your teleport or some shit and lose us in the void.” 

They return to the void, emerge back into the real world. He can’t breathe, he can’t see straight. He’s so tired. Techno crosses his wrists in front of his chest and draws him back until Ranboo is pinned against him. 

“Ranboo!” he snaps. Ranboo freezes, utterly, completely still. 

He registers the sound of rushing water, oh good, they’ve found the river. A hysterical giggle turns into an enderman's warble. 

“Stop teleportin’ for a second,” Techno says, “just listen to me, okay? Tommy and Tubbo sent us, they said Dream had kidnapped you. We’re your friends, remember?” 

No, he doesn’t, but Technoblade’s voice washes over him, he can feel it through Techno’s chest, he is steady and solid as a rock. Immovable. Ranboo can’t fight him, can’t run, all he can do is listen. 

Techno sighs, “Come on, kid,” there is something almost...pleading, in his tone. “I’m not good at this shit.” 

Good at what? What is he doing? 

“Just--calm down. Take deep breaths with me, alright? In for five, out for seven.” He counts, and Ranboo can feel his chest expanding as he draws in breath. “The point of this is that you do it too,” Techno says. 

He breathes. 

They breathe. 

Its calm, peaceful. He’s so  _ tired _ . He just wants to sleep. 

_ Gods _ does he want to sleep. 

Phil appears out of the forest, clutching the journal in his hand. Ranboo startles, but Techno’s arms tense around him and a warning noise rises out of his throat. “Its just Phil,” he says, “don’t tell me you’re scared of Phil, he’s a softie.” 

“Thank fuck you’re both okay,” Phil says, his hair and clothes are in disarray, like he ran all the way there. How far did they go? How far did he teleport them? 

“We’re fine,” Techno says, and he says it with such surety, such certainty that it must be true. “We’re fine.” 

Maybe they are. 

“Glad to hear it,” Phil says, bracing himself on his knees, “I’m too old to be doing this shit anymore.” 

“What, you throw your back out old man?” Techno asks. 

“You joke, but gods I might have.” 

Techno laughs, there’s something familiar in it, he’s less tense, but he doesn’t let Ranboo go. Ranboo is pretty sure that Technoblade is the only thing keeping him upright so that might not entirely be a problem. 

“You alright mate?” Phil asks him, why does he ask? Why does he look like he cares? 

Why are they familiar? Why do they feel like  _ safety _ instead of  _ danger _ ? 

“Who are you?” Ranboo asks, “I just--I don’t.” 

His head hurts, everything hurts. 

“Jeeze kid,” Technoblade mutters behind him, “you really  _ do _ have memory problems. Phil, show him the book would you?” 

Phil comes slowly closer, his right hand, his sword hand is open and raised away from the hilt of his blade. “Here,” he says, flipping open the cover of the journal, “right here on the first page. Its your book, your writing, and we’re your friends.”

_ Friends _ : 

_ Phil  _

_ Technoblade  _

There are others, names he doesn’t know but bring up the same flickers of sensations. Ghosts of memories that he has lost. 

“See?” Phil says, “its us. You trusted us once, trust us again, yeah? We just need to get you back and then you can see all your other friends. Tommy and Tubbo have been worried about you.” 

Techno snorts, “worried enough that they actually spoke to us even. You’ve got good people on your side, kid.” 

“No.” Ranboo says, “I can’t go back. Are you crazy? After everything I did?” 

“What you did?” Techno says, sounding confused. “You do see that Dream isn’t on this friend list, right? Like I’m pretty sure he’s the only one on your enemy list. You hate that guy. Whatever he told you is  _ definitely _ a lie.” 

He’s right. Dream isn’t on the list of friends. But that can’t be right, they can’t be enemies. Because Dream was so kind, Dream cared for him, taught him,  _ died for him _ . 

But the book can’t be a lie either, he  _ knows it _ , deeper than the vague impressions of memory that he usually gets, every inch of him strains towards that book, tells him to protect it, to hide it. 

“But,” he says weakly, “I destroyed L’manberg. I--” 

“ _ You _ destroyed L’manberg?” Techno interrupts, incredulous, “ _ that’s _ what he told you?” 

“Techno,” Phil says, a bit of warning in his tone, “listen, Ranboo, I promise you, you did  _ not _ destroy L’manberg.  _ Dream _ did. And then he kidnapped you, and I guess fucked with your memory.” 

Ranboo barely hears the rest of the sentence. Dream destroyed L’manberg. 

Dream destroyed L’manberg. 

He didn’t do it, Dream did. He shouldn’t believe them, he should scream that they’re lying, try to teleport away again. But he  _ does _ believe them. In the same way he knows the book is his, he knows that Dream destroyed L’manberg, and then lied about it. 

Dream destroyed L’manberg, and then told him that  _ he _ had done it. 

_ why? _

Ranboo curls in on himself as much as he can, he tries to dig through his memories, but there is a gaping, ragged hole in his mind. 

“Hey,” Phil says, his voice surprisingly gentle, “its a lot to deal with, kiddo. Don’t push yourself, let’s start small, okay? Will you come back with us?” He holds out a hand and Techno finally releases Ranboo. 

He could teleport, get away from them. 

He takes Phil’s hand instead, “okay.” 


End file.
